Page 82 of The Uprising
Mission accomplished.
Cara examined the key for a minute, looked about to make sure no one had seen her extract it from the shelf, and then placed it carefully in her jacket pocket, her hand still cradling it as she walked back towards the gate. She didn’t want to take any chances of it bouncing out of her pocket.
‘May I help you?’ asked a member of the hotel staff.
Cara, who was lost in a world of her own, thinking about the unexpected appearance of Swifty, and the discovery of the key, jumped. ‘No, I’m fine, thank you. I was just enjoying a quick walk around your beautiful gardens and am now about to go out for the day and will be back in time for dinner.’ She smiled her most charming smile, ducked out of the gate and jumped into her car before he could interrogate her any further.
She sped along Willow Manor’s driveway, and then called George. His seductive deep voice reverberated throughout the car.
‘There you are, darling. I was wondering where you’d gone,’ he said.
‘Sorry I shot off before you came home, but Eddie called. And guess what?’
‘Umm. I’ve no idea,’ he replied.
‘I’ve got the key,’ she said, not having the patience to make him guess.
‘The key for the bank vault?’
‘The very same. And there’s other big news too. You won’t believe it. I’ve just left Willow Manor and I’m on my way. I’ll tell you more at home.’
‘Great. I’ll be waiting for you. You’re a star,’ he said.
‘Love you, see you soon.’
Cara turned on the radio and sang along at the top of her voice. A surge of pure joy shot through her as she cruised through the beautiful York lanes on her way back to George. Home was wherever he was. Perhaps everything would work out, after all.
Willow Manor, York, 1536 - Tudorville
Cara tried to relax and make the most of being at home with the children, but her mind kept hopping about at a frantic pace as she thought of all that could go wrong the next day.
After dinner, when the children had gone upstairs, she sat in front of the fire with Edward, nursing a glass of whisky. As she sipped, the alcohol sent a jolt of adrenaline coursing through her veins.‘I’m not one for the strong stuff but this is very pleasant,’ she said.
‘I thought we could both do with it to steady our nerves a little, so we can get a good night’s sleep,’ Edward replied.
They had planned George’s rescue as carefully as they could without going to St. Mary’s by day, and risking alerting anyone to their presence. Cara had received a note from the queen, saying that they believed the rebels were about to march, and she hoped Cara and George had been reunited in York.
Cara bid Edward goodnight and they both went to bed ready for an early start. She struggled to relax enough to sleep properly, and as agreed, they met Swifty at the stables at four o’clock in the morning when all was silent and still, and the only sliver of light was from the moon glistening in the black velvet sky. Cara shivered and wrapped George’s thick cloak tighter around her tired, aching body. The manly smell of him lingered on the material and evoked his nearness so that she yearned for him all the more. She sent up a silent prayer.
Please God, let him be safe and well, and let us bring him home today.
Cara had been relieved to hear thatSwifty had arrived at Willow Manor a couple of days earlier, exhausted and starving after being released by the rebels.
‘I heard them say they were taking him to a place called St. Mary’s,’ he told them, and Sylvia’s vision and George’s dream were confirmed.
They gathered as much information as they could about St. Mary’s, and began to formulate their plan.
If the rebels marched and reached London, it was proof that the timeline had reset as Cara suspected, and George would be destined to die in 1537. If they didn’t rescue him, he would either die at the rebels’ hands for being loyal to the king, or on the king’s orders for showing loyalty to the rebels. Either way, they must get him out before they missed their narrow window of opportunity.
An image of the blue-eyed karmic warrior flashed into Cara’s mind, and she shuddered.
As they set out from Willow Manor, each riding their own horse, Cara whispered to Swifty. ‘Did you see a blue-eyed man amongst the rebels at Pontefract Castle?’
‘No, my lady, not that I recall.’
They rode through the remainder of the night and Cara’s muscles still ached with weariness from her gruelling journey from Windsor to York. The first hints of a golden dawn began to break on the horizon and Cara felt the crisp morning air on her face as they cantered along the track in the direction of the abbey. It was cold but invigorating and she inhaled copious amounts of fresh air, in an attempt to energise herself for the challenge ahead.
St. Mary’s Abbey, York, 1536 - Tudorville
